July 1867 - February 1868, The thousand mile walk from Kentucky to Florida and Cuba Image 86

our deck was white with broken wavetops. “You had better go below,” said the Captain to me, “The Gulf-stream opposed by this wind is raising a heavy sea and you will be sick. No landsman can stand this long.” I told him that I hoped the storm would be as violent as his ship could bear - that I enjoyed the storm scenery of such a sea so much that I could not be sick - that I had long waited in the woods for such a storm and that now I would remain on deck and enjoy it. “Well,” said he, “if you can stand this you are the first landsman that I ever saw who could. You would make a good sailor.” I remained on deck watching the Belle as she dared nobly on, but mostly my attention was outwards among the glorious fields of foam-topped hills. The wind had a mysterious voice and carried nothing now of the singing of birds or of the rustling of palms and fragrant vines. Its burden was gathered from a stormy expanse of crested waves and briny tangles. I could see no striving in those magnificent wave motions - no raging. All the storm was inspired with Nature’s perfection of beauty and harmony - every wave obedient and harmonious as the smoothest ripples of a forest’s lake, and all the water was phosphorescent like silver fire, a glorious sight. Our luminous storm was all too short for me. Cuba’s rockwave loomed above the white waters, the sailors, accustomed to detect the faintest land lines, pointed out a well known guiding harbor mark back of the Morro Castle long before I could see it through the flying spray.https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/jmj-all/1085/thumbnail.jp